


to see the sun again i'd give anything

by Story_Teller_Of_Untold_Legends



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Repression, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Flashbacks, Gen, Good Friend Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Hugs, Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Minor Violence, Past Character Death, Past Injury, Phil Watson Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Teasing, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Story_Teller_Of_Untold_Legends/pseuds/Story_Teller_Of_Untold_Legends
Summary: Phil tries to get some work done around Techno's house. The only problem with that is that his mind ends up wandering into darker thoughts than he'd like, leaving Phil to shatter. But luckily, someone is there to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 195





	to see the sun again i'd give anything

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to my "c!philza needs to process losing his son and his wings in the span of ten minutes instead of deflecting with laughter and destruction" agenda. title is from Bird With A Broken Wing by Owl City!

Beware the Angel of Death, who cackles while cities burn. That was what they said about him, that was what everyone expected of him. That or they expected wisdom and fatherly care from the man whose wings died with his son. But the truth was that the great Philza Minecraft was neither of those things. Well… to be fair, the moniker “Angel of Death” was well deserved, the rubble of L’Manburg made that fact absolutely certain. But Phil didn’t  _ want _ that to be who he was. He wanted to be safe and at home with no war or fighting, preening his wings while Wilbur’s music drifted through the house- but he had ruined all of that on his own, hadn’t he? 

Phil squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. He was in the middle of checking over the bee farm, why were all of these thoughts hitting him  _ now _ ? Maybe it was because the yellow of the bees made him think of Wilbur’s sweater, their buzzing resonating at a frequency similar to the sizzling of TNT-

Okay. Maybe Phil should leave the bee farm for later. There were other things he could do… like gathering supplies for the Syndicate! Yes, that would be good, having something monotonous to work on always helped. With that plan in mind, Phil spun on his heel to head to Techno’s house to check and see what they needed- and smacked right into Ranboo. The two stumbled away from each other, Phil ending up falling onto his back- and therefore onto his permanently damaged wings. Phil hissed in pain as the fragile, half-there feathers made crushing contact with the snow and cold ground beneath it, and Ranboo’s expression twisted in a mix of guilt and sympathy. 

“I’m sorry! I thought you knew I was there,” Ranboo said, holding out his hand to help Phil up. He took the offered hand and shook the snow from his wings once he stood up.

“It’s alright mate, I was just… lost in thought, I guess,” Phil said, trying for his usual smile. Ranboo didn’t seem to buy it, if the worried frown was anything to go by, but he didn’t directly comment on it.

“Oh. Okay! How’s the uh, bee farm?” he asked, clearly trying to keep things casual, which Phil was grateful for (even if it was painfully awkward).

“Giving me difficulty, I keep getting… frustrated. Think I’m gonna deal with it later,” Phil replied with a shrug.

“I can do it!” Ranboo blurted. Phil startled a bit at the outburst from the usually mellow teen, blinking in surprise.

“I, uh- thanks mate, but…”

“Really, I can do it! You showed me how to take care of them once, and I put down what you said to do in my memory book! I can handle it, promise,” he said, pulling out his memory book and flipping through the pages. Phil smiled, a true smile this time, at Ranboo’s eagerness to help. 

“I- thank you. You let me know the minute you need help though, okay?” Phil insisted, tone leaving no room for argument. So of course, Ranboo argued against it.

“I think I can handle taking care of some bees, Phil,” he scoffed with a grin. For a split second, the snarky reply felt so reminiscent of Wilbur. If things had been different, would Wilbur be there with them? Phil could practically see the alternate reality play out in front of him- Wilbur helping out with the farms, getting into snowball fights with Ranboo and then egging on Techno and Phil to join them, or sitting on the porch and strumming his guitar and humming half-worked out melodies. A bittersweet smile came to Phil’s face, and he blinked away the sudden mistiness in his eyes.

“If you say so, mate,” he said softly, then walked away from the bee farm and to Techno’s house. 

Once up the stairs and safely inside, Phil let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His wings sagged, their damaged tips lightly brushing against the floor. Saving face in front of Ranboo… that took more energy than he had thought. That combined with how much he had seemed like Wilbur for a moment… well, Phil wasn’t exactly in the mood for gathering supplies anymore. But he didn’t want to be idle either. Being idle meant being alone with your thoughts, and Phil’s thoughts often weren’t that kind to him. They’d be filled with accusations of him being a terrible father for killing his son, for letting Wilbur twist and become such a darker version of the bright young musician Phil once knew, for destroying the thing his son had built to rid himself of the memories of Wilbur’s screams begging Phil to kill him-

Before he realized it, Phil crumpled to the ground, knocking something over as he went, hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his sobs. What on earth was he doing? He had to get up. He had to stop crying. Wilbur, his wings, and L’Manburg- those tragedies were in the past. He should be over it now. Right?

Phil’s feeble reassurances to himself did nothing, as he remained on the floor with his wings shielding him like a fragile cocoon and shoulders shaking with sobs he was stubbornly trying to hold back. He was so lost in his sorrow and denial that he hadn’t realized that someone heard something crash in the house, and now had come inside to investigate. They tried to get his attention, but upon garnering no response, they put a gentle hand on Phil’s back, right between his wings.

The touch, no matter how gentle or well-meaning, caused something inside Phil to snap. Some strange, almost primal instinct took over and replaced the mournful sorrow. No one touched him anywhere near his wings and  _ lived _ . He shot up from his curled up position on the floor, drawing his sword in the same motion and lunged at the person behind him. He tackled them to the ground, sword edge at their throat- and froze. Because he saw eyes wide with fear and shock, and for a moment all he could see was Wilbur. Then he blinked, and registered the heterochromic red and green eyes of the person he just attacked-  _ Ranboo _ . He broke eye contact and scrambled away from Ranboo like he had been burned, tossing his sword aside and hardly registering the clatter it made over the thundering of his heart.

“Ranboo, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, you clearly didn’t realize I was there or who I even was, it’s not your fault and I’m not hurt anyway,” Ranboo said, voice low and soothing as he shifted into more of a sitting position on the ground, not standing up quite yet. Phil felt way out of his depth. Not only had he been caught crying by a teenager, but his immediate reaction to said teenager trying to comfort him was to kill him. Some father figure he was.

“I-I-”

“You don’t have to talk about what’s bothering you if you don’t want to, but… something tells me that this is something you’ve been keeping to yourself for a while. And trust me, I know that bottling things up is never good. So when you’re ready to talk about it… I’m here,” Ranboo said softly. Phil let out a sigh.

“Ranboo, you’re just a kid. I can’t be putting all my problems onto you,” Phil said, his voice a hollow echo of the cheerful kindness it usually held. A mildly irritated expression crossed Ranboo’s face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, this server is full of kids and people who are basically kids to you anyhow. So who exactly else would you be able to talk to about this?” he said, a bit more blunt than he probably meant to, but beating around the bush certainly wouldn’t help things either.

“I don’t need to talk to anyone about anything,” Phil huffed, sounding a bit like a stubborn child.

“Uh huh. Says the guy who made a loud crash when having a mental breakdown, and then startled so bad that he instinctively attacked someone. You’re right! You don’t need to talk to anyone about this at all,” Ranboo said flatly. Phil winced, and let out another sigh.

“I… you’re right. I shouldn’t be keeping this all bottled up. It’s just that everyone here is so young and already has had so much struggle and heartbreak. I couldn’t bear to add to that,” Phil said softly.

“Misery loves company,” Ranboo pointed out with a smile. Phil couldn’t help but smile back.

“I suppose so,” he said. Ranboo’s smile grew wider, and he stood up, then offered a hand to Phil to help him up (again).

“I’m capable of standing up on my own, y’know,” Phil chuckled, but took the offered hand anyway.

“And yet I’ve found you on the ground  _ twice _ today, old man,” Ranboo teased. A surprised laugh burst from Phil’s lips.

“Oh you little shit, I thought you were trying to comfort me,” he said, still laughing.

“Okay hold on, first: there is nothing ‘little’ about me, I’m a lot taller than you. Second: I got you to laugh, didn’t I? Seems like the comfort is working pretty well,” Ranboo said, sounding unreasonably smug. And yet again, Ranboo reminded him of Wilbur. It was strange- upon first meeting the half enderman, Phil saw so many similarities to Technoblade in him. But now, the more he got to know him, the more he noticed a remarkable similarity to Wilbur as well.

“Maybe so,” Phil sighed. Ranboo squinted at him suspiciously, and Phil kept his eyes trained on the floor.

“You keep getting that wistful tone in your voice and a faraway look in your eyes. Do you… wanna talk about that?” Ranboo asked, fidgeting with his sleeves and looking otherwise unsure of what to do with his hands. A smile tinged with bittersweet memories came to Phil’s face.

“I suppose I should. Let’s sit down by the fire, this isn’t a conversation I want to have standing or feeling cold,” Phil said, taking a seat in front of the fireplace with Ranboo quickly following his lead. One of Techno’s dogs, who somehow had stayed snoozing by the fireplace throughout Phil’s mental breakdown, instantly perked up and trotted over to sit in Phil’s lap.

“Dogs are good for comfort too,” Ranboo pointed out. Phil agreed with a chuckle, gently running a hand through the dog’s fur. After a deep breath to calm himself, Phil delved into the story of his son, his wings, and L’Manburg. Ranboo listened with a patient and understanding expression, reaching out every once and a while to put a comforting hand on Phil’s arm whenever his voice wavered.

“And that’s it, I guess. I’ve tried to put my focus into working on farms here or gathering supplies to keep my mind off of it… but as you can tell, that hasn’t entirely worked,” Phil said after he finished his story. Ranboo was quiet for a few moments, taking in what Phil had said.

“In theory, I guess trying to distract yourself isn’t the worst idea, but… you haven’t really given yourself time to… process anything, have you?” Ranboo finally asked. Phil laughed bitterly.

“Unless you count what happened earlier? Not really,” Phil replied, keeping his eyes on the dog dozing in his lap.

“Phil,” Ranboo said reproachfully.

“Oh, because you’re the champion of processing emotions?” Phil shot back. Ranboo winced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Phil immediately felt guilty.

“To be honest, I don’t really remember many things to process them anyway,” he said, voice low. Phil sighed, and reached out to put a hand on Ranboo’s arm, much like Ranboo had done for him earlier.

“It’s alright mate, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You were just… entirely correct, and I didn’t want to admit it,” Phil said with a soft, apologetic smile.

“Hey, if I were in your shoes, I probably would have lashed out too,” Ranboo said, smiling back and affectionately nudging Phil’s shoulder with his own. Once again, Phil was reminded of Wilbur. He had always been so dependent on touch- things like shoulder bumps, hair ruffles, playful punches on the arm, hugs- and it seemed Ranboo was the same way, albeit a bit shyer about it. Phil must have had that “faraway look” as Ranboo put it, as the half-enderman was regarding him with a puzzled expression.

“There’s… probably something else I should explain to you. But I don’t want it to affect who you are as a person, and I don’t want you to think that anything you do makes me feel… bad,” Phil explained, internally wincing at the way his words came out.  
“Uh… okay? Gonna admit, you’re scaring me a bit there,” Ranboo said with a nervous laugh, looking a bit startled. Phil took a deep breath, then reached out to take Ranboo’s hand and squeeze it comfortingly.

“When I first met you, you reminded me so much of Technoblade. A little standoffish, skeptical of everything and everyone, and a bit stubborn. But the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more you make me think of Wilbur. You have this snark to you like Will, but at the same time you have the capacity for cheerful optimism like he did. Sometimes your mannerisms even remind you of him! So that’s why I get a little… wistful, every now and then,” Phil explained. Ranboo’s expression brightened at the comparison to Techno, but the Wilbur comparison clearly threw him off a bit.

“So… I remind you of the power-hungry revolutionary leader who is now a bizarrely cheerful ghost?” Ranboo asked, head cocked to the side in confusion. Ranboo’s puzzlement startled a laugh out of Phil, and he shook his head fondly.

“I forgot that you never knew the real Wilbur- I don’t know if anyone in this server ever really knew the real Wilbur. Maybe some of the original people of L’Manburg did, but creating that nation… it corrupted him. He was so far from the person I raised… I should have gotten here sooner. Maybe things would be different now,” Phil said, voice soft and tinged with regret.

“Well… I think you did the best you could, considering what you had to deal with when you arrived. And if what you say is true, about no one really knowing the true Wilbur… I don’t know if coming sooner would have helped anything. But I guess none of that really matters, all we can do now is focus on our present actions,” Ranboo replied, sounding  _ much _ older than he actually was.

“Pretty wise words for someone your age,” Phil said, unable to keep the impressed tone from his voice. Ranboo’s eyes widened, and an awed smile came to his face.

“Huh… yeah, I guess so. And for what it’s worth- I think Wilbur sounds like he was a pretty neat guy. I would’ve liked to know him, the real him,” Ranboo said, squeezing Phil’s hand before letting go of it again.

“I think you two would have gotten along well,” Phil said, finding himself a bit misty-eyed. He wiped at his eyes quickly before any tears could fall, and Ranboo frowned sympathetically. He scooted closer to Phil, then slowly and cautiously leaned his head on Phil’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around him in a half hug. Phil initially stiffened at the contact, but quickly melted into the touch, his arm going around Ranboo’s shoulder while his fragile wing gently covered the hybrid like a cocoon. 

The two of them stayed by the fire like that for a while, leaning against each other with Techno’s dog in Phil’s lap. Neither one said a word- not that they really needed to. It felt so nice to be the one being comforted for once, to not be looked to for answers, or to be looked upon with fear. Sure, he was the Angel of Death, the great Philza Minecraft, and a fatherly figure that those could rely on for guidance- but for once, it was nice to just be Phil.


End file.
